Frankfurt. 

 Back on seventeen days' leave, and everyone here very anxious to hear details of the battle of Skajerack. 

 It is very pleasant to have something to talk to the women about. Usually the gallant field greys hold the drawing-room floor, with their startling tales from the Western Front, of how they nearly took Verdun, and would have if the British hadn't insisted on being slaughtered on the Somme. 

 It is quite impossible in many ways to tell that there is a war on as far as social life in this place is concerned. 

 There is a shortage of good coffee and that is about all. 

 Arrived back on board last night. 

 They have made a fine job of us, and we go through the canal to the Schillig Roads early next week. 

 We are to do three weeks' gunnery practices from there, to train the new drafts. 

 

 

 

 1916 (about August). 

 At last! Thank Heavens, my application has been granted. Schmitt (the Secretary) told me this morning that a letter has come from the Admiralty to say that I am to present myself for medical examination at the board at Wilhelmshaven to-morrow. 

 What joy! to strike a blow at last, finished for ever the cursed monotony of inactivity of this High Seas Fleet life. But the U-boat war! Ah! that goes well. We shall bring those stubborn, blood-sucking islanders to their knees by striking at them through their bellies. 

 When I think of London and no food, and Glasgow and no food, then who can say what will happen? Revolt! rebellion in England, and our brave field greys on the west will smash them to atoms in the spring of 1917, and I, Karl Schenk, will have helped directly in this! Great thought--but calm! I am not there yet, there is still this confounded medical board. I almost wish I had not drunk so much last night, not that it makes any difference, but still one must run no risks, for I hear that the medical is terribly strict for the U-boat service. Only the cream is skimmed! Well, to-morrow we shall see. 

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